There are no people, only charred houses and storefronts, block after block of blackened roofless dwellings, an abandoned bank, a gas station stripped down to the metal frames of its pumps, and an emptied city hall. A few scavengers troll a neighborhood of burned mud-brick homes for nails and metal roofing. The only sound is from brittle leaves rustling in the breeze.

Most of the residents of Bossangoa, which had a population of 50,000, now occupy two sprawling camps, one for Muslims, the other for Christians.

Far from the capital, Bangui, and its veneer of foreign troops and aid workers, destruction and violence lurk, hidden by the isolation of the countryside in a land the size of Texas but with less than 300 miles of paved roads.

In the dense forests and across the rolling savannas of the Central African Republic, dozens of villages and parts of towns have been burned down by marauding guerrillas in a fitful sectarian civil war between Christians and Muslims that has been simmering for months.

First it was the Muslim rebels who took over the country last March, cruising into villages in pickup trucks, setting them ablaze and firing indiscriminately; then in September it was the turn of Christian militias to respond with similar tactics. At least one-fifth of the country’s population of 4.5 million is on the move, seeking refuge in the bush or anywhere they can find shelter.

Over the weekend, more violence was reported all over the country. A convoy of Muslim refugees heading north was attacked, leaving 23 people, including three children, dead, the aid group Save the Children said Saturday. The Red Cross said it had buried 60 people in the Boali region, just north of Bangui, since Friday. On Sunday, two Muslims were stoned to death by a mob in central Bangui and their bodies then burned and mutilated.

Here in Bossangoa, capital of the Ouham district about 160 miles from Bangui, some 35,000 people have camped inside the grounds of Saint Antoine de Padoue cathedral, a Roman Catholic church. Children, men and women are everywhere in the large diocesan compound, in the courtyard and near the cloister or huddled against the seminary and other buildings.

Tents distributed by the United Nations are crammed around the church and the air is heavy with smoke from cooking fires. On the other side of town, some 8,000 Muslims are jammed around a school named Liberté and living in makeshift tarpaulin shelters and reed huts.

In both camps the refugees say they are trapped by fear. The current lull in violence appears to be encouraging no one to leave the relative haven of the camps.

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A girl pushed a cart past burning houses in the Central African Republic town of Bossangoa earlier this month. Dozens of villages and parts of towns have been burned down by marauding guerrillas in a fitful sectarian civil war between Christians and Muslims.CreditAndreea Campeanu/Reuters

“They attacked for nothing. Nothing,” said Mahamat Ibrahim. “They came, and they attacked. They killed my two children.” Mr. Ibrahim, a cattle breeder who wore a long scarlet robe and a white turban, sat with friends at the Liberté camp as washing, cooking, and selling went on all around him. “It’s like we are in prison here,” he said. “I want this war to end. But the Christians are wicked. They don’t even want reconciliation.”

On the church grounds fear and suspicion dominated, even though much of the violence now comes from the Christian militias. Georges Ouiyaorgi, a teacher, said his house was burned by Muslim rebels months ago. “We’re really traumatized,” he said. “It’s shock.” The Muslim attacks have diminished, but it’s “too soon, too soon” to say there was no risk, Mr. Ouiyaorgi said. “The Muslim still has weapons.”

Nevertheless, inside the church offices, Bishop Nestor-Desire Nongo Aziagbia told Anthony Lake, the head of Unicef, that the thousands of displaced people, many there since November, should now return home.

“We have to get people to be responsible for their lives,” the bishop told a surprised Mr. Lake and other visiting United Nations officials. “I don’t know the principles guiding your actions.”

Outside, Mr. Ouiyaorgi, when told of Bishop Nongo’s remarks, retorted: “We are going to go back, how? And be out in the sun? We are waiting for financial help, to rebuild our houses.”

A version of this article appears in print on , on Page A6 of the New York edition with the headline: Central African Town Is Left Charred, Empty and Hopeless Amid Violence. Order Reprints | Today’s Paper | Subscribe